


Behold Tomorrow

by Camellia Cook (thekurosakiconundrum)



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Kylo Ren, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Battle Scenes, Choking, Come Inflation, Dirty Talk, Discussion of mpreg, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mildly Dubious Consent, More like impromptu consent play, Omega Armitage Hux, Pregnancy Kink, Rough Sex, Soulmates, Swordfighting, Virgin Armitage Hux, but not really, which is a bad idea but it's ABO just go with it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-05 22:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16819930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekurosakiconundrum/pseuds/Camellia%20Cook
Summary: Armitage is having a terrible day. He's lost his horse, lost his shield, and gotten stranded in the middle of a battle. To make matters worse, he's fighting the fearsome black knight Kylo Ren and barely managing to avoid getting killed.Then, Ren scents his biggest secret--he's an omega. He's a warrior omega, and Ren decides right then that he has to have him.Despite his better judgement, Armitage wants that too... He feels like there's something pulling them together, some connection that he doesn't fully understand. But destiny and biology be damned... He's Crown Prince Armitage Hux, heir to the throne of the Kingdom of Order, and he's not giving in without a fight.





	Behold Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NinPotato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NinPotato/gifts).



> Happy Holidays, stranger! I hope you enjoy this filthy, filthy a/b/o porn I wrote for you.  
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Armitage whirled around to meet the new threat behind him, his sword clanging off his enemy’s as he blocked the heavy, overhand swing. He barely managed it, sword arm trembling under the weight as he pulled his dagger with his other hand and drove it straight into the man’s eye through the gap in his helmet. The enemy stumbled back and fell, his scream audible over the cacophony of battle.

He looked around frantically for a way to get out of the fray, back to his army’s lines where he could find a fresh mount and a replacement shield, try to take stock of the situation, and do something useful instead of getting slaughtered. He had trained as a tactician and chevalier—he was Armitage of House Hux, First of His Name, Duke of Arkanis, Earl of Attera, Hero of Elstar’s Depth, General of the Three Armies, Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Order, and the Rightful Heir to the Empire of Galacia, not a foot soldier. Dying like a common man wasn’t what he was meant to do, but he didn’t even know which way he needed to go to get back. He couldn’t make out anything but men and metal and blood, a shifting, senseless array of violence.

As he stood there bewildered, panting, trying to regain his bearings, Armitage saw something strange happening to battle in front of him, something his mind identified as wrong, though he couldn’t understand what was happening. It was like something was cutting a path through the crowd, shoving soldiers aside to make way as it passed. It was coming, Armitage realized, straight towards him.

Was it some beast, some golem? He saw no fire, so it wasn’t one of the Kingdom of Light’s drakes, but he’d heard stories of metal men being seen in battles like this, enchanted suits of armor that took the place of soldiers. 

Or could it be help? Hope fluttered in Armitage’s chest, beating against his ribs—could he survive this after all? Perhaps it was his father’s royal guards, sent to retrieve their prince from the mess he’d gotten into. Normally the thought of needing Brendol’s help would gall him, but he was so desperate to get out of there that he’d take what he could get. Surely that’s what it was, surely any second now he’d see their white and red tabards and he’d be safe, or at least safer.

Then the creature that had parted the crush of battle like it was nothing stepped out of the fissure it had made. He was huge, even taller than Armitage and nearly twice as broad, a monster in blood-spattered mail and black leather. Armitage’s heart went cold as the black knight Kylo Ren charged towards him.

Ren’s blade glinted as it slashed down towards his head, sunlight and crimson on steel. Armitage ducked the blow, staying low and lashing out at Ren’s legs, but Ren was too fast—he cut at Armitage’s blade, knocking it aside with pure strength. The impact of jarred up his arm, nearly wrenching his shoulder out of joint, and he took a step back.

The two of them circled each other in the space that had formed around them, Armitage’s blade up in a middle guard while the Kingdom of Light’s infamous dark warrior held his bastard sword one-handed at his side, casually flicking his wrist, drawing circles in the air with the tip as if it weighed nothing.

“Nice form, your Highness,” Ren said, his voice muffled and distorted by his helmet but still carrying over the din.

“Yours is sloppy,” Armitage snapped, lip twitching up in a contemptuous snarl, not that Ren could see it under his helmet. _Arrogant twat, showing off in the middle of a pitched battle._

Ren burst into motion, launching himself at Armitage, blade in both hands now, hewing upward. He parried it, barely, and cut around to the other side, landing a strike on Ren’s shoulder, cutting through his black cowl and exposing the mail underneath. Ren took it easily, turning with the momentum of the blow and spinning into a vicious horizontal slash that Armitage tried to deflect, a rushed maneuver that almost knocked his blade from his hands and sent him reeling, staggering away from the black knight.

Distance wasn’t useful. Armitage knew he had to get in close, had to find some way to counter Ren’s greater reach and mass.

He feinted left and Ren bought it, moving to block, leaving his belly open to Armitage’s lunge. The black knight grunted and fell back, and Armitage pressed his advantage, swinging overhand at Ren’s head, though he was almost too close now. Ren parried the cut awkwardly but recovered, countering with a flurry of two-handed blows that forced Armitage back, the black knight steadily gaining ground against him.

Ren’s sword connected with his ribs, staggering him and knocking the air from his chest, but he kept his balance and met the next swing, and the next, and the next. He couldn’t do this for much longer, he needed an opening but Ren was too good, he had to—there!

He slashed at Ren’s right hand, suddenly too exposed on the hilt of his blade. The blow connected and Ren bellowed in rage and pain as he nearly dropped his sword, barely keeping a a grip on it with his other hand.

Armitage shouted a wordless battle cry and lunged again, following the motion through with a kick to Ren’s legs, knocking him back and back again, sword flung out uselessly to one side. With all his might, he aimed another overhand strike at Ren’s head. This time, his blade struck true.

Ren fell to his knees, dropping his sword to clutch at his head. Armitage kicked him the rest of the way down and stood over him, sword raised, ready to drive it down through Ren’s mail to pierce his heart. Then the world tilted and spun as he fell—Ren’s hand gripped his ankle and wrenched it to the side, pulling Armitage down on top of him.

Ren rolled them easily, pinning Armitage with his weight and tearing his helmet off, exposing him. He’d lost his sword somewhere, and he struggled uselessly in Ren’s grasp, staring up at his masked face. The muzzle of his helmet made him look more like some wolf-headed god than a man, terrifying and unnatural. This close, he could see his dark eyes narrowed in satisfaction as Ren wrapped his uninjured hand around Armitage’s bared throat and squeezed.

This was it, this was how he’d die—another victim of Kylo Ren. Armitage struggled with everything he had, trying to thrash his way out of Ren’s grip, but Ren was sitting on his hips, one hand on his throat and the other pinning his arm beside his head, absolutely implacable. All the wriggling in the world wouldn’t save him, and his free hand on Ren’s arm couldn’t do a damn thing to dislodge his chokehold no matter how he pulled.

Ren was so fucking strong… Terrified as he was, there was a part of Armitage that couldn’t help but appreciate that, couldn’t help but spare a moment’s thought for how magnificent a warrior Ren was. Armitage had been so close to besting him, but in the end Ren’s sheer physical power had overwhelmed him.

Adrenaline surged through his veins, his heart beating frantically, but it wasn’t enough, he couldn’t get free—strong, Ren was so strong, such a strong _alpha_ , with his helmet off Armitage could smell him and fuck, he smelled good. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move, Ren could just—oh, gods, he could just do whatever he wanted, take whatever he wanted—and Armitage was going to fucking _die_ , why was he—

Ren’s grip suddenly slackened and Armitage wrenched his hand away from his with a hope-fueled surge of strength, sucking in a great heaving breath. His boots finally found enough purchase to push off and he slid out from under Ren atop the slippery battlefield mud, drawing his dagger as Ren shook off whatever had distracted him and grabbed for him again, seizing hold of Armitage’s belt.

He couldn’t get away, so he didn’t even try, launching himself at Ren and toppling him over backwards, their positions reversed so that he sat astride Ren’s hips. There was a tiny sliver of bare neck under Ren’s helmet where his mail collar had been dislodged, and Armitage drove his dagger down.

Ren’s hands snapped out and caught his wrist, holding him there with the tip of his knife grazing Ren’s skin, a hair’s breadth from consummating his victory. Armitage tried to bear down just that little bit more, but despite his lack of leverage, Ren was strong enough to hold him at bay.

“Almost killed by an omega… That’s a new one,” Ren drawled, sounding entirely unperturbed by his position. Through his helmet, Armitage could see that his eyes had gone a little glassy. “You should’t be out on a battlefield when you reek like need. It’s a miracle no one’s fucked you already.”

Ren paused while Armitage sputtered. “You—I—how _dare you_ —“

“How dare I offer to help you out with that?” Ren punctuated his statement with a buck of his hips, thrusting up against Armitage, heedless of the blade at his throat.

He gasped, his face flushing, a surge of arousal roaring through his traitorous body as he resisted the urge to grind down on Ren in return. He hated this, hated what he was, the evidence of his mother’s low blood. “I don’t need to be _bred_ , I don’t need a gods-damned thing from you or anyone.”

“But you do. I can smell it. You need it so bad you’re getting wet from having me under you in the middle of a fucking _battle_. You want to be my _spoils_ , Your Highness? My war prize? Is that it?”

Armitage snarled, letting the surge of rage and arousal propel him into motion, bracing his knife hand with his the other and bearing down with all his might. It still wasn’t enough—he could have all the speed and guile in the world, but he’d still be hopelessly outmatched in a contest of raw strength with a big, strong alpha like Ren. It wasn’t fair. He leaned down over him, trying to use his weight to add more leverage, but still Ren held him off.

So strong… Armitage’s back arched as he shifted his hips against Ren’s, even though he could barely anything through two layers of padded leather and one layer of mail—perhaps a slight rise, just there? Desire rushed up from inside him in a sudden flood, fizzling hotly over his skin at the thought that this man, the most feared warrior in all Galacia, could be hard _for him_.

His armor suddenly felt heavy and constricting—he wanted it off. Ren’s power called to him, made him want to submit; some long-denied part of him craved what he knew Ren could give him. Armitage that wanted him to put down his knife and let Ren breed him right here, in the midst of this slaughter.

What the fuck was wrong with him? His heat wasn’t due for months, and here he was, acting like he was right in the middle of it, desperate for Ren’s knot. He needed to kill Ren, not fuck him. But his bloodlust had faded entirely, replaced nothing but shaky, animal need. His instincts as a prince and a soldier warred with his instincts as an omega, and biology was winning.

And now he was stuck here, unable to complete his attack, held immobile— _again_ —by Ren’s hands. If he let up on the pressure, Ren could get up, could kill him…But what if he didn’t? What if now that he knew what Armitage was, he wanted to have his way with him instead? He could hold him down, force him to take his knot, stretch him wide open while he moaned like he was a camp-following whore instead of the heir to the throne of Order.

With a wordless sound of distress, Armitage tried one more time, letting up on the pressure and then driving the blade down with all his strength, bent low over Ren’s body.

All he managed was to nick his skin, no deeper than if Ren had made a mistake shaving.

Ren groaned at the feeling of the little cut, a low, filthy sound that turned Armitage’s insides into quivering jelly. His voice was little more than a growl as he said, “You smell so fucking good. My warrior omega… What a prize you’d make.”

Armitage shuddered, squirming against Ren as he felt himself growing wetter. He wanted it, wanted Ren in him…

Something was happening. Armitage had tuned out the rest of the battle entirely from the moment he and Ren had crossed swords, the noise and the spectacle of death falling away as Ren consumed his entire attention. But something was niggling at him, breaking his concentration. There was something he needed to pay attention to, and he tried to focus, tried to think past the ache between his legs. It was a sound, an important sound, loud and brash.

The horn! It was a signal to regroup and it was _close._ He could get back to his men, he could get to safety, he could get away from Ren and the confusion he caused. In one fluid motion, Armitage tore his hands out of Ren’s grip and flung himself away, sprinting for the source of the sound. He snatched up his sword from the ground as he made his way back towards a world that made sense, one without the black knight and his filthy promises. Armitage’s world was ruled by Order and reason, and base instinct had no place in it.

* * *

That night, he woke to the sound of a soft footfall and the flap of canvas.

“Mitaka? What is it?” Armitage murmured sleepily, wondering what on earth his _aide de camp_ could want in the middle of the night. Gods, he hoped there wasn’t a night raid or some stupid thing—their troops, himself included, desperately needed to rest and heal after the day’s battle.

“It’s not Mitaka,” a soft, low voice said from just inside the door to his tent.

Armitage rolled over and sat up abruptly, his injured ribs protesting the movement as he stared wide-eyed at the broad-shouldered figure silhouetted against the faint firelight coming in from the slit opening of the tent.

“Ren,” he breathed. His voice sounded different without the tinny echo of his helmet, but it was still unmistakeable. Was this a dream? How was Ren here?

“Hello, Your Highness,” Ren said, prowling closer. “I’m here to claim what you denied me when you ran off so quickly.”

Fuck. Fear and want shot through Armitage, mixing strangely, setting his skin alight, making his heart kick into a sudden gallop.

“I—” Armitage began, but his throat was too dry to speak, and the word came out as a croak. He swallowed, licked his lips, tried again. “I could raise the alarm. One scream and you’d be dead in minutes.”

Ren scoffed. “You really think you saw the full breadth of my abilities today? I can do things you can’t even imagine. You know what they say about me.”

The shadows surrounding Ren seemed almost to intensify, collecting around him, blurring the edges of his form, turning him to something amorphous and terrifying. The stories he’d heard—Ren could throw a man across a battlefield, could read an enemy’s mind, could stop a crossbow bolt in midair without so much as touching it.Armitage wanted to see it, suddenly, but he didn’t need the proof. In that moment, he believed. In that moment, he _wanted._

“Anyway, you won’t. You want this as much as I do.”

“Fuck you,” Armitage spat, but he kept his voice quiet so as not to draw any attention.

Ren laughed, low and teasing. “Yeah. That’s the idea. ‘M gonna fuck you, Your Highness.”

Armitage whimpered, his thoughts shattering under his crushing wave of arousal. His cock twitched violently, his whole body clenching, contracting. He felt the telltale slickness behind him, already soaking into his nightshirt—he’d been wet for Ren from the second he’d walked in. He thought again of how it had felt to have Ren’s hips between his thighs, thought again of the strength in Ren’s hands. He’d never wanted anything so much.

Ren was coming closer. This all felt strange, impossible, dreamlike—but Armitage had to make a decision. Call for help, or give in. Neither was entirely acceptable—he wanted Ren more than he could bear, but surrender wasn’t in his nature, whatever his genes said. He didn’t want to give Ren a damn thing—he wanted Ren to reach out and take it, take _him._

He looked up at Ren, a looming, alpha-shaped shadow in the dark as he stripped off his shirt. Armitage swallowed, licked his lips. “Not without a fight, you aren’t.”

Ren snarled, a half-voiced, threatening thing that raised the hair on the back of Armitage’s neck. “Good.”

Then Ren was on him, kneeling over him and shoving him back to the bed before he could react, preternaturally fast. He seized Armitage by the hair, tugging back sharply to bear his throat. The hot, damp breath of a predator breath puffed over Armitage’s skin as Ren’s teeth scraped their way up the side of his neck, a threat just this side of painful.

Ren’s hot, soft tongue flicked out, the tip tracing along the bolt of his jaw, up under his ear—the touch was so gentle and delicate, and the contrast with Ren’s painful grip on his hair made him weak, dissolving into pliant jelly, writhing under Ren’s touch.

His pride and his desire to see Ren’s strength spurred him to turn his writhing to thrashing, to fight to wriggle out from under Ren. He struggled to get enough purchase to flip them, to get the upper hand like he’d had earlier, but he couldn’t—Ren’s limbs caged him, Ren’s body held him down, Ren’s hand in his hair kept him pinned.

He fucking loved it.

“Get off me,” Armitage panted, wriggling under Ren, half-struggling to get free and half-trying to get some more friction. “Stop, you beast!”

“No,” Ren growled, the sound vibrating against his neck, and pressed himself down more firmly atop him, knees planted on either side of Armitage’s thighs, his thick, hard cock pressing against Armitage’s belly as he pinned him in place with his sheer weight.

Armitage moaned aloud at the feel of it against him. He wanted it, wanted it in him, and oh, oh _fuck,_ Ren was going to give it to him, no matter what he did, no matter how he struggled and resisted.

He wasn’t ready to give in just yet, no matter how badly he ached to submit. He wanted to fight, but it was almost impossible to focus with the way Ren was sucking and licking at his neck, rutting down against him like an animal, grunting softly in satisfaction every time he ground his cock against Armitage’s belly.

He was so big, so overwhelming, but his grip on Armitage’s hair had slackened as he worked himself against his body, and Armitage knew how to seize an advantage when one was handed to him. He arched up and bit hard at the juncture of Ren’s neck and shoulder, sinking his teeth in, tasting blood.

Ren reared back, ripping Armitage off him and gasping out a curse. The pain was worth it just to know the feel of Ren’s flesh between his teeth, the taste of him. He licked his lips.

Ren kissed him then, hard and wet and copper-slick, bearing down to force his mouth open and shove his tongue inside. He thrust it inside, kissed him deep and claiming, like a threat, like a promise. Armitage tried to give as good as he got, pressing up into it, sucking on Ren’s tongue, their teeth clacking together as they fought to devour each other. He had never been more turned on, but still, he had his hands free and he used them to shove at Ren, trying to dislodge him.

His attempt was useless, though, Ren was just too _big_ , and Armitage’s leverage too poor. He couldn’t even break their kiss—Ren only hummed against his mouth, scraped his teeth over his lips.

Armitage could feel his back wanting to arch, his legs wanting to open; stars, he was wet, his ass and thighs and the sheet below him all slick with it, more leaking out of him every time he tried to move Ren and failed, coming up against a hard, solid wall of muscle.

He grabbed a handful of Ren’s hair and pulled hard, finally yanking Ren’s mouth off his. Ren groaned and shuddered, thrusting against him—fuck, surely it wasn’t… Armitage pulled harder, keeping up the pressure, looking up at Ren’s face. It was dark, but he could make out the slight gleam of his eyes and the dark smear of his wet, open mouth, the proud shape of his nose, the needy tilt of his brows.

 _Gods._ “Pervert,” Armitage hissed. “You like when I hurt you.”

“Fuck, yeah. I love how fucking fierce you are. I’ve never had anyone like you. I’ve never _met_ anyone like you.”

Armitage stared up at Ren defiantly, lifting a hand to Ren’s (absolutely massive) bare upper arm, digging his nails in and dragging them down, scoring Ren hard enough that it likely drew blood. Ren hissed, writhing atop him, and Armitage seized his chance and tried to shove himself out from under him.

Ren caught him with a hand around his throat.

“Takes a pervert to know one. I can smell how bad you want this,” he whispered, his fingers stroking Armitage’s neck, a threat and a caress at the same time. He rolled his hips against Armitage’s, grinding their cocks together, making him gasp. “I can feel it inside your mind. But by all means, keep struggling.” Ren grinned down at him, teeth glinting in the dark. “Feels good.”

Of all the patronizing, presumptive… Armitage slapped him, hard, incensed at being so easily read.

Ren flinched back. “Hey, that hurt!”

“Good,” Hux spat, his lips curling in a contemptuous snarl.

Then Ren’s hand on his throat tightened and Hux couldn’t breathe. Ren leaned in close again, mouth hovering over his as he whispered, “That’s really how you wanna play this? You’re really gonna make me force you?”

Oh, gods. Hux felt his face going hot, his lungs beginning to burn almost immediately. It hurt, Ren’s big hand tight around his neck, stopping his breath, but this was it, this was what he’d been craving. _Yes,_ he thought, _yes, force me, choke me, take what you want._ The thought that Ren might be hearing Armitage’s thoughts only made him hotter, his insides twisting with shame and need.

He rocked up against Ren as best he could in this position, and oh, fuck, it was so good, the friction on his aching cock, the feel of Ren’s so close, so thick and hard. Every time he squirmed it reminded him how wet he was, what a mess he was making, his ass and thighs and the bed all slick with it. Gods, he needed it, he _needed it_ , rutting up against Ren, that sweet, almost-enough friction, and he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t _breathe_ , fuck—was he going to come? From nothing but this?

Ren released him and Armitage gasped in a breath, his whole body alight with the rush of oxygen and arousal, teetering on the edge of orgasm. He lay there panting, too dazed to keep up his act, not a thought in his mind but _wantyouwantyouwantyou._

“That’s enough foreplay,” Ren growled, sounding just as affected. “Gonna fuck you now.”

Armitage groaned hoarsely in response, a vague, slurred affirmative as Ren straightened, the weight of his body lifting and leaving Armitage bereft. Still kneeling over him, Ren took him by the shoulders and flipped him over.

He rolled with it, pliant now, settling on his belly and tipping his hips up, presenting himself. He could feel his nightshirt sticking to his ass, and he moaned aloud when Ren pressed his fingers between his cheeks through the thin material.

“You’re fucking _soaking_ ,” Ren whispered, sounding amazed, toying with his hole through the slick fabric, pushing it inside just the tiniest bit—yes, more, he needed more, gods, _Ren_ —

Ren laughed, a broken, hungry sound. “I know, sweetheart.”

Armitage didn’t understand, had he said that aloud? Could Ren really read his mind? He didn’t know; he couldn’t think. He wanted Ren to fuck him.

Ren’s fingers pushed the fabric of his nightshirt a tiny bit deeper inside him, teasing his rim, and Armitage couldn’t take that right now. He whined, trying to arch up as much as he could, trying to get Ren’s fingers to press inside, really inside. He despaired when Ren’s hands left him, but after a moment he realized that he must be undoing he lacing of his trousers. Yes, he thought, _yes._

Ren lifted the back of his nightgown, baring his arse completely. He planted one massive hand in the middle of Armitage’s back, fingers spread wide as he half-sat atop the backs of Armitage’s thighs, pinning him utterly. Then Hux felt it, the crown of his cock nudging up against his hole, and he squeezed his eyes shut, shaking with need. He could feel himself twitching under the too-light pressure, his body wanting to open up and take Ren in. _Come on, come on, come on._

“You gotta say it aloud,” Ren muttered, “Tell me you want it.”

“I do,” Armitage breathed after a long moment, the pause not out of hesitation or shame—he was well past that now, some switch inside him flipped—but only because the words took a long time to resolve into something that made sense. When Ren didn’t move immediately, he went on, barely recognizing his own frantic, pleading whine. “I want it, Ren, I want it, I want it, I _—_ ”

Ren groaned and began to press inside, sinking in so easy and slick, Armitage’s body opening around him, swallowing him up. So _big,_ he felt so thick and hard and _perfect,_ filling him up just right, just exactly right _—_ this was everything he’d ever wanted and oh, _ohh—_

Ren shifted, the hand on Armitage’s back moving to the bed as Ren lay on top of him, his other hand—bandaged, blood-smelling—wrapping around Armitage’s face, pressing over his mouth to hold in his moans as he settled himself fully inside. He was so heavy, that tremendous bulk trapping him, bearing him down. Armitage listened to him pant, every exhale a soft groan. Ren’s hand made it hard to breathe.

“So _good_ ,” Ren sighed after a minute, sounding almost disbelieving. “You’re so good, so fucking soft inside, so wet and open for me—feels like you’re in fucking _heat.”_

He didn’t wait for an answer, not that Armitage could give one anyway, before pulling out and shoving back in, hard. That first thrust had him seeing stars, crying out into Ren’s hand from the slick drag of his cock inside him, how fucking _thick_ he was, how deep inside. He found a rhythm quickly; a hard, driving, snap-snap-snap of his hips that had Armitage falling to pieces beneath him, Ren’s hand clamped over his mouth the only thing keeping him from screaming the camp awake. Impossible, this felt impossible; oh gods, he hadn’t _known_ —

Every thrust crushed him against the bed, Ren’s weight forcing him down, making his injured ribs ache and rutting him against the wet spot he’d made earlier, where the sheets were filthy with his own slick. It was so _much_ —the friction and pressure, the sense of fullness, Ren’s cock inside him blunt and fat and shoving into the most sensitive places inside him. Ren rode him hard, panting and grunting atop him, taking his pleasure without regard for Armitage’s comfort.

It was just what he wanted.

He couldn’t get enough air as Ren’s hips worked faster, harder, the sound of it filthy-wet, beyond obscene. It made everything better, hotter, made him feel like he was made of nothing but pleasure, pressure, a dizzy tension that made everything disappear except Ren’s body pinning him, Ren’s cock pounding into him. It was like every thrust wound him tighter, pulled him apart, stretched him thin until he was ready to snap.

“You’re so close,” Ren breathed, “I can feel it. You need it a little harder?”

Armitage nodded frantically and then screamed into Ren’s hand as Ren shifted his weight forward, gathering Armitage’s wrists in one big hand and pinning them to the bed, his hips snapping, fucking him so utterly _right—_

He seized up as he started to come, pleasure taking him by surprise and striking him dumb, unable to even cry out, unable to do anything but drool on Ren’s hand and spill himself onto the bedsheets, hot and wet and slippery all over his cock and belly.

“Fuck,” Ren ground out. “That’s it. Let it all go. Come for me, sweetheart.”

Armitage could only moan into Ren’s hand, limp as a ragdoll as Ren fucked him through it, the intensity of his orgasm almost violent, almost painful, hollowing him out.

“Feel that?” Ren muttered, nuzzling at his neck and shoulder. Armitage could barely comprehend the words, struggling to focus on anything other than how absurdly fucking _good_ that had just been. “Feel it swelling up? Gonna come so hard, you’re gonna make me come in you so much.”

He did, oh gods, he felt it, Ren’s cock was thickening at the base, stretching him open wider. He could feel all of Ren where they were pressed together, his skin burning hot, soaking Armitage’s nightshirt with sweat. The too-sensitive drag of his spent cock against the bed made him want to cry out, but he needed all the air he could get, crushed under Ren. Everything was heat and weight and pressure, dizzying him, making his world tip and spin. He nodded frantically, so high on hormones and pleasure that he felt like he was going to come out of his skin.

“Gonna breed you.” Ren’s voice was a dark, dissolving thing, slurred at the edges, half-snarl. “Gonna knot in you, fuck you full.”

Armitage whined deliriously. He wanted it so much—in that moment he wanted more than anything to be Ren’s mate, to be claimed and filled and held close. He wanted Ren’s seed inside him, wanted it to take root. There was only one thought in his head, so huge it drove out everything else. _He was Ren’s, Ren’s, Ren’s—_

“Yes,” Ren snarled, fucking him so hard, so fast, mindlessly chasing his own pleasure. It hurt, bruising his insides, stretching him out, but Armitage loved it, wanted it to never end. “You—nn—I know you feel it, too. Wanna—get a child on you, I wanna—fill your belly, oh gods, _oh_ —”

Ren shoved in deep, stilling, swelling, spilling, Armitage could feel it, could actually feel the hot flood of it, so much, Ren was coming so _much_ , not even breathing above him as he shuddered and shook, his hips working in short, sharp thrusts, fucking it in just that little bit deeper as his knot swelled up impossibly huge, filling Armitage like nothing he’d ever known before. It didn’t hurt but there were tears in his eyes; the feeling of being stretched open, filled, held there, pinned on Ren’s cock… It satisfied something deep down inside him, some hunger he hadn’t known he possessed. It felt _right,_ gods, so right.

Ren gulped in a huge breath above him, letting it out as a low shaky moan as he loosened his grip on Armitage’s mouth, relaxing above him.

“It’s inside you,” Ren murmured, pausing to lick along the edge of Armitage’s ear. “I can feel my knot keeping it in there.”

Armitage shuddered, feeling like he’d transcended mere arousal and entered some alternate plane. He could barely speak, even simple his “yes” coming out a slurred mess. Ren had well and truly fucked him senseless.

Ren’s hips rocked in tiny, trembling motions, his breath shivering out over the back of Armitage’s neck. When he spoke, his voice was a wrecked, tremulous whisper, “I’m still—oh, I’m _—_ still coming, I’m—gonna fill you more, make your belly swell up so big.”

Armitage didn’t quite know what he meant so he pictured it both ways, his belly fat and full with Ren’s seed, then his whole abdomen swollen huge with Ren’s child. He wanted both, wanted it all. Every time Ren’s hips shivered it jostled him, made him feel (imagine?) it all sloshing around inside him. It was so sweet it was almost agony, so profoundly erotic that he felt like he might just fall apart and disintegrate completely. He couldn’t believe he’d gone his whole life without this.

They lay like that for a long moment, Armitage half-crushed under Ren’s pinioning weight but too sex-drunk to care, Ren’s hips twitching every so often as his cock pulsed out more of his seed, setting them both moaning and shuddering against each other. After a little while, some indefinable stretch of moments, Ren got an arm under him and murmured, “Here, let’s lay on our sides.”

Joined together and moving as one, they managed to roll over. The cool air and the space to move was a tremendous relief, cooling Armitage’s body as he drew in as deep a breath as his ribs would allow, then another, then another.

Ren nuzzled at the back of his neck, scattering soft kisses over his skin, and as Armitage felt the shape of his rather large nose, his full lips, he thought about how he still hadn’t seen Ren’s face properly. Even when they’d been face-to-face, it was too dark to really make him out.

He wanted to see him.

He also wanted to kiss him, and that he could do. He turned his face towards Ren as much as he could manage and Ren closed the gap, full lips meeting his in a soft, clinging kiss. The change in angle shifted Ren inside him, and the pressure almost painful, too much to bear for long, but still so perfect.

This was their only their second kiss, and as soon as the thought occurred to Armitage, it struck him as absurd. Surely they had kissed many times, surely they had done this before. Ren’s body against his, Ren’s kiss, Ren’s cock inside him—it all felt so familiar, so good and right.

It was a far sweeter kiss than the one they’d shared earlier, slow and slick and almost gentle. The angle was awkward, keeping them too far apart, turning the kiss to something lax and messy, something filthy. Their lips couldn’t fully reach but their tongues could, stroking and slipping against each other, tangling in the space between their mouths as Ren’s hand stroked down his body.

Armitage moaned helplessly as Ren pressed down, fingers spread over his lower belly. Gods, he was so _full_ —the pressure was almost unbearable, he felt has though he might burst, filled to overflowing with Ren. It was incredible, intoxicating _—_ maybe he was imagining it, but his belly felt soft and squishy under Ren’s hand, like he was swollen up with Ren’s seed, his insides awash with it.

The thought made him shudder, gasping, his cock twitching as it began to stiffen again. He couldn’t stop picturing it, his distended belly full of Ren’s come, so much that it would surely make him pregnant even though this wasn’t his heat. He wanted that, wanted to see himself waxing with Ren’s baby inside him. Their child would be so strong, with Armitage’s will and Ren’s power.

He knew how crazy this was, he’d only met the man this morning and they’d tried to kill each other, but there wasn’t a cell in his body that didn’t want them to be together, united. He wanted to Ren to possess him completely. He’d always hated being an omega, but he wanted to be _Ren’s_ omega. And Ren would be his alpha, the two of them together against the world.

“I feel it, too,” Ren whispered, nuzzling at Armitage’s ear. “It shouldn’t be… No one’s ever felt this good. There’s something special about you, about us. It’s different with you.”

Armitage opened his eyes, blinking at the darkness as he forced his fucked-stupid mind to parse Ren’s words. “Different from what? I don’t have any basis for comparison.”

“I can’t believe no one’s ever done this with you. You’ve been saving yourself for me…”

“Yes, saving myself for a man I just met.” Armitage rolled his eyes, but his it didn’t come out as sarcastic as he’d intended. “It’s just that no one knows what I am. I’d have to kill them, after, so they couldn’t talk, and I can’t go around depleting our population just to get off.”

Unexpectedly, that made Ren laugh, which made his body shake and Armitage moan as it jostled his cock inside him. “So fierce… I love that about you. Are you going to kill me, after?”

Armitage felt his cheeks heat, thinking of the way Ren had defeated him earlier. Could he kill Ren, even if he surprised him? What about those powers he claimed to have? Even if he could, the notion seemed ludicrous now. This morning’s battle felt incredibly far away. “Maybe. I haven’t decided.”

He knew Ren didn’t believe him. He could hear the smile in his voice as he replied, “I’ll just have to make you feel so good you can’t bear not to have me again, then. It’s purely a matter of self-defense.”

With that, Ren’s hand slid further down, taking hold of Armitage’s half-hard, oversensitive cock, stroking it gently. Despite the careful touch, the pleasure was bright and sharp, almost too much to bear.

His toes curled, his eyelids fluttered—he almost wanted to squirm away, writhing helplessly in Ren’s grasp. His cock jerked in Ren’s hand and his body tried to clench up but was unable to, held open on Ren’s knot. He wanted to cry out, wanted to moan and wail, but he pressed his lips together and the sound came out as a long, plaintive whine. It was too _much._

“I wish I could see you,” Ren murmured in his ear. “Next time, I’ll fuck you in the daytime, have you spread out under me so I can see your pretty face as you come apart.”

“N-next time?”

Ren bit lightly at his neck, and Armitage could feel his smile against his skin. “Mm. You’re mine, now, even if I haven’t marked you, yet.”

“Yours,” Armitage gasped, and he’d meant it as a question, but it didn’t come out that way.

“Yes.”

Ren’s hand held him more firmly, now, jacking him steadily as his hips worked in tiny circles, stirring Armitage up inside. He could move a little more now, his knot beginning to go down, his cock softening inside him—Armitage could feel the mix of Ren’s come and his own slick trickling out, smearing wet and messy between them every time Ren rocked his hips.

“Think how good your heat’s gonna be. We’re gonna do this over and over, I’m gonna knot you again and again until it takes.”

“Yes,” Armitage gasped again, thrusting forward into Ren’s grip and back onto his cock, working himself between those two perfect points of stimulation. The thought of it, of having Ren with him during his heat, of actually being satisfied instead of a miserable, lonely, empty wreck—it sounded to good to be real, but he believed Ren.

“You’ll be my mate, bear my children,” Ren promised. “I’ll make it happen.”

Even like this, Armitage knew it for the ridiculous fantasy it was. But he still wanted it. Gods help him, in that moment, he wanted it more than anything. Just the thought of it had him close, the thought of Ren putting a baby inside him, claiming him completely. _“Yes.”_

 _“_ I’ll conquer this world for you,” Ren whispered, “We’ll rule it together.”

Armitage was going to come, gods—Ren was mad but his hand was tight, jacking him hard, and his body was warm and strong and big all along his back, and his cock was still inside him, still swollen at the base as Ren ground himself as deep inside as he could. Ren was mad but so was he, because he wanted that, he wanted Ren for his, his mate, his alpha, his right hand—

“I’m close,” he gasped, feeling his orgasm building slow and huge at the base of his spine. “Ren, please.”

“You want me to mark you? Make you mine?”

“Yes,” Armitage gasped, delirious. “Yes, yes, yes, yes—”

Ren bit down hard on his shoulder and Armitage threw his head back, mouth open on a silent scream as he came so hard it felt like his skin was turning inside out, only Ren’s teeth in his shoulder anchoring him to his body. It seemed to go on forever, wave after intolerable wave, pouring out of him as he jerked and shuddered in Ren’s arms.

Ren stroked him through it, slowing as Armitage stopped thrashing, giving him a final squeeze before letting go, releasing the hold he had with his teeth. He kissed the spot where he’d bitten, licking over it with a broad, flat tongue, like a dog.

Ren had marked him.

Ren had marked him his, and all Armitage felt about it was pleased and content. He knew he should be angry, and maybe he would be later, but just now he couldn’t summon outrage for the life of him. He was suddenly incredibly drowsy, and the pain in his shoulder where Ren lapped at it was strangely satisfying. It felt good, like the ache inside him where Ren had opened him up.

“You’re incredible,” Ren murmured, sounding drunk. “I could fuck you forever.”

“Maybe you should,” Armitage sighed, helpless to do otherwise.

They fell silent again, simply basking in each other’s presence, in their closeness, in the press of sticky, sweaty skin and the rise and fall of their chests.

Eventually, when Ren had softened enough, he pulled out, leaving Armitage empty and leaking come. It felt strange, unsettling, like he’d forgotten how to exist without Ren inside him. Armitage recalled suddenly that they’d only met for the first time this morning, when they’d tried to kill each other. The thought was ridiculous, and it made him laugh as he rolled onto his back.

“What?” Ren asked, a smile in his voice.

“I almost slit your throat this morning. You tried to cut me in half.”

Ren snorted lying propped up on his elbow beside him. “We were confused.”

“Yeah,” Hux said, reaching up to stroke Ren’s face. He didn’t know what had happened, why he felt like this, like he and Ren were united now, rock-solid despite the fact that they were on opposite sides of this war, despite the fact that they knew basically nothing of each other. “We were.”

Was it always like this, afterwards?

Ren leaned down and kissed him, slow and thorough, like a declaration. “It’ll be dawn soon. I should go.”

Armitage didn’t want him to.

“I’ll find you again. Don’t worry, Armitage.”

It was the first time Ren had said his name, and gods, this was insane. This was all insane. People didn’t do this, didn’t have this kind of instant connection. “You’d better, Kylo Ren.”

Ren kissed him one more time and stood, picking up his shirt and putting it on, doing up the trousers that he was still wearing. As he began to walk away, Armitage knew suddenly that he couldn’t let him leave without seeing his face. He sat up and reached out to the night-table, grabbed the mechanized fire-starter that sat next to the lantern.

“Hey,” he called quietly, “Ren.”

When Ren turned, Armitage flicked the wheel that struck flint against tinder and caught the device’s wick alight, the tiny flame bathing the tent in a weak, flickering glow.

It was, however, enough to see by. He stared, mouth hanging open, at the man he’d just given himself to.

Ben Solo, Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Light, stared back at him, looking just as startled. Armitage watched as he raised his hand, and then the light went out, leaving him blinking in the dark. When his vision cleared, Ren was gone.


End file.
